


Consequences

by Melanthios



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: Azog cameo, Driders, Eldar Are Bad Specist People, Other, Oviposition, murder mention, parasitic breeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 11:56:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15640260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanthios/pseuds/Melanthios
Summary: Elrond's twins go Orc-hunting and find the shadow Eldar--the Drow. But when you kill people, sometimes there are very dire consequences from those that care for them....(or, This Story Is Not For You If You Like The Eldar)





	Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> Elves are wonderful. They provoke wonder.  
> Elves are marvellous. They cause marvels.  
> Elves are fantastic. They create fantasies.  
> Elves are glamorous. They project glamour.  
> Elves are enchanting. They weave enchantment.  
> Elves are terrific. They beget terror.  
>   
> No one ever said elves are _nice._  
>  Elves are _bad._

Miss Downstairs knew the weakness of Eldar was the darkness, and wrapped her black silk around their faces, until all light was blocked, and they lay still, not unconscious but not quite conscious either. The not-sleep of the Eldar was said to be unique to them, a gift from their gods; but any scientist knew better, could see it in the humble hawk as she sat hooded upon her owner’s hand.

Miss Downstairs was heavy with eggs, and these twin Eldar had slain _her_ twin Drow. It was fitting, then, balanced, that she fill these twin Eldar with her eggs. Actions had reactions.

Brushing their long hair from their necks, she readied her fangs carefully and felt the pop of them piercing the skin, flexing her venom sacs just enough to dose them. More silk took care of the wounds, and she watched them swallow, heard them whimper, as the venom raced through their veins, began changing them, began preparing them.

It was tempting to hiss; but she had to remain focussed. They deserved no explanation, they deserved to wallow in their terror of her kind, of the dark, of strangers; but that was not the way of Justice.

‘You have committed the crime of murder, and furthered the enormity of it by murdering the helpless.’ She spoke softly, anger sure in her voice, but calm for having something done about it. ‘Thralls, those who turned their care to me. You murdered them all.’

‘There is no murder when it is _Orcs_ —’ said one.

‘Ah, so Orcs do not live? Why do they move, eat, breathe? You speak foolishness. Murder is murder.’

‘We do not fear death,’ said the other stoutly.

‘What a curious thing to say,’ she answered, beginning to cut their clothes away. They could little squirm, stuck to her web, but she had to be careful, for their clothing was what was stuck, not yet their white skin.

‘Wh-what are you doing?’ one said, voice rising in panic.

‘You’ll be here a long time,’ she said calmly, carefully binding his leg to the web. ‘Your clothes would rot away.’

They began to curse in their susurrant tongue, struggling. She toiled to bind them—and it was toil, now, fighting for every inch of progress. She had to stop to cool off frequently, which only loosened their bonds a little more, and she had to reinforce them over again. It was hard work, but Eldar were worth the trouble. There were accounts—few, but enough to make a respectable sample—that Eldar made the best hosts. Their physiology, hearty in the most trying of weathers, served them well, responded well to the venom.

When she had finished them halfway (the top half), she heard a polite tapping on a tree trunk, and the voice of an Orc—a true Orc.

‘Good evening, Lady,’ he said politely.

‘Good evening, sir,’ she said, and did not look, for a Spider never looked at faces, being that their ears were not on their faces.

‘Are you going to eat both of them, or might I trade you for one?’

‘Eat? No, sir, you are mistaken. Note you not my gravidity?’

‘Aha,’ he said in his low, rich voice, smiling. He watched her a while, studied the bulge of her abdomen in the light filtering through the leaves. ‘Did you happen to catch any spare?’

‘No, cousin. If you come back tomorrow, I may have some rabbits caught in my web to share.’

‘Do not trouble yourself, Mother,’ said the Orc politely. ‘Only Elf is a favourite of mine, and it has been a long time.’

‘Elf is a favourite of mine as well, though not for eating. Too valuable for other things.’

A low and alluring chuckle from the Orc. ‘Might I watch, Mother?’

‘Oh, I should like a guard, thank you,’ she said, grateful.

He watched her a little while. ‘Perhaps also some assistance, Mother?’ he offered, seeing her struggle.

‘I appreciate the offer, sir, you are kind.’

‘Should not a Chieftain be kind to his cousin?’ the Orc returned, and bade his Warg to guard the little patch of forest she had secured, while he went toward the web, careful of its strands. The Warg sat, and waited.

The Eldar had not understood any of this, because it had been in the language known commonly _under_ the world, not above it, and which many people called Orcish, though they called every language from Below Orcish. In truth the tongue was a mixture of all the tongues spoken Below, as most Trade Tongues were, and was known to those who spoke it as the Night Speech.

The Orc helped her finish binding them to her web. He was especially helpful in keeping their legs held in the right position, while she went about the fairly difficult task of finding places to anchor the line so that they would be held that way.

‘What… what do you mean to _do_ to us?’ One of the Eldar asked, when he felt them raising and spreading his thighs. Dread, faint and sleepy, coloured his voice. His voice was quiet, subdued, the hood over his eyes taking effect as much as the venom that made his flesh pliant.

‘You took my twins from me,’ she said simply, judging the first one ready and moving carefully into position. ‘It is only fair that you assist me in the way they were meant to.’

Carefully, slowly, she slid her ovipositor against the Eldar, over his flushed genitalia, over his stretched and softened opening, coating him with her own arousal until he was writhing and moaning and slick; she would not speak of it, but the idea of so using people who had cruelly used her own was more than a little titillating.

By the time the first egg was sliding into him, she was making a small cry of relief at the slight release of the pressure inside her, and he was harmonising with a soft noise as he felt answering pleasure at being filled. Into a Drow, she could fit six—but into someone as big as this Eldar, she could fit so much more.

By the fourth, he was panting, his cockstand pooling his arousal on his belly, mingling with hers.

By the twelfth, he was whimpering, his hips trying to rut on her ovipositor, squirming to get the eggs in faster when he felt them at his entrance, flexing in rhythm with her. One last, and he cried out, desperate for his climax, as she pulled out, sealing him, his belly domed and taut and swollen with her brood—well, half of it. She took a few moments, and watched his brother, who had only felt the tremor of the web, only heard his brother, smelled his arousal on the air (for Eldar _could_ smell things, though not as well as some other races).

‘Elladan?’ he cried, sleepily. ‘Gwanur! What have you done to him, _witch?’_

‘Filled him,’ she said simply. ‘I shall be doing the same to you.’

He fought a little more, but it was still not enough, and too soon, his body overwhelmed his mind, and her venom was overpowering his body, lulling the flesh. She hummed, weaving her own magic to assist, no longer so laden that she could hardly breathe. Now, it was _they_ who would be thus, she thought, voice getting stronger with every egg pushed into its warm incubator. Her children would be strong.

She moved the sleepy Eldar, wrapping them up in her black silk, leaving it only faint over the lower half of their faces, so they could breathe easy, but were protected from dust, and ants, and other things. She bound their long dark hair to keep it clean, not so cruel as to shear an Eldar’s plumage. She was not here to be cruel, she was doing this because she needed warm bellies to hold her eggs, and these two had disposed of the two she was planning to use, so they were the only convenient replacement. Justice. Fairness. Consequences.

Neither had come to their climax, and both squirmed and twitched, wanting and not wanting, too full and not full enough, flush and perhaps alluring to other races. But she did not look upon such creatures as anything but food. She bound their flushed cockstands against the curve of their laden bellies, and the only regard she gave them was an especially thick layer of gossamer, to protect such tender flesh from the elements.

Blissfully empty, she felt light and alert, and finally hungry again. After hanging them high and securing them in a shadowed corner made by a tree and a boulder, she lowered herself down to the Orc that had been half-watching and half-guarding her.

‘Thank you, cousin,’ she said, much relaxed.

‘They are lucky to be so used,’ he said, a little envious. She noised in surprise.

‘Would you take pleasure in it, truly?’

‘Perhaps,’ he flirted, his white skin shining in the moonlight. ‘Will they be secure, there?’

‘I wish not to linger near them,’ she said, dismissively. ‘I shall come back later.’


End file.
